Dew drops beading on petals of blue preserving their beauty still fresh and newfrilly, soft and light as a feathernature's brilliance withstands the weather.

Beaming by day with the light of the sunfolding at dusk when the day is donethey'll rest and recover all through the nightnot to bloom again until dawns break of light.

In the early morning while the moon still shinesthe flowers awaken and begin to unwinddrops of dew falling upon their facetoils of the previous day to erase.

Romantic and fresh, so alive and newthe beauty of the flower God sends to youcolors so vibrant they'll bring out your sighsremembering them even as you close your eyes.

Butterflies and Daisies

A patch in the field chock-full of daisies this place, a favorite, where I slipped off to dream twirling and giggling all alone I would dance pretending that I was as free as a butterfly silently flitting from here to there, admiring the flowers and I would spin until the ground spun out of control.

Stumbling until my legs I could no longer control sprawled on my back surrounded by daisies thinking they were the prettiest of all the flowers in my dizziness I slipped into a wondrous dream wings and antenna were part of me; I was a butterfly swirling and twirling I would fly around and dance.

There are those who insist that butterflies don't dance and will suggest that my imagination is out of control but my mind still drifts back when I see a butterfly to my childhood days and that field chock-full of daisies reminiscing of the times when I went there to dream and carried home to Mother, a bouquet of flowers.

The air was filled with the sweet aroma of flowers wind, warm and soft, made them sway and dance once again falling into the trance of my dream leaving adulthood behind, relinquishing control from flower to flower in my field of daisies I spread my arms, twirling, flying like a butterfly.

I told my Mother all about the butterfly while she searched for a vase for her flowers then she'd arrange my bouquet of daisies and smile and laugh when I showed her the dance even though I knew she would maintain control her eyes said, "Let me loose, once again to dream."

One day she told me of her childhood dream to my surprise she too, held in awe the butterfly this time relinquishing all her control stories spilled out about her fields of flowers and how she had spent hours perfecting the dance for that moment we were surrounded by daisies.

A child's gift of daisies are a dream to cherish twirling together you dance as the butterfly flies share a handful of flowers, release your control.

Ohhhh wow daisy!! Thanks so much for posting those poems! I love both of them putting lovely images in my head...!

*Takes both of them and hang them framed on one the wall inside the Greenhouse for all to see*

I love the "Vibrant Sighs" poem even better cause it desribes to me so very well how I enjoy the precious and delicate flowers and true..some even look more beautiful in moonlight...the way petals and sepals seem to reflect(or atract who is to know...night insects, hummingbirds or...humans..lol)

To thank you for sharing this poems with me and the rest of Splash that may step into the Greenhouse a pretty orchid picture just for you. Not a real beginners plant unfortunately, so not suitable to start an orchid hobby with....but hope you will enjoy anyways!

i use to spend time in the bulb field region for over a decade i would go twice a year well in the villages of sassenhime and lissa stay with friends cant remember how to spell those names any case this brings back to me good feelings and happy days so i have dug out a poem from Zen i wrote a while back to post in your green house

blossom

Sometimes i wish i was clever knew words fancy ones you get to hear in an ice cream store when someoneâ€™s got their mouth full but

so i look to nature forwords to understandfeel even experience their meaning as they follow one another from blossom to peach to stone renewing

aaww thanks, Dutch ... glad you enjoyed them. I didn't realize there were so many varieties of orchids. I love the pictures you post of them, hope to see a lot more. I know I have a few more poems about flowers/plants ... I'll have to dig through my files and see if they're worthy to post in this prestigious forum.

Thanks for your contribution with your Zen poem. I really liked it and it made me smile big time! Thanks for posting it and its on the wall next to the ones of daisy.

How awesome that you have been so many times to the bulb region, then I dont have to tell you anything about the colorfulness of the tulipfields in flower season. Sassenheim, Lisse and of course Hillegom...all in the midst of the tulip fields. Hillegom is a big magnet to tourists from all over the globe who come to the bulb gardens of "Keukenhof" every spring.

Yeah did enjoy them very much..I have some Orchid poems, but they are in the Dutch language and we all know that translating isn't going to work in 9 out of 10 times. Still working on getting my English poems and rhymes better, but sometimes I feel it's like learning to walk all over again, lol. I would love to read more of "flower related" poems when you go through your folders, as you can see enough room on the big wall for more poems...

It's a very true thing..the Orchid Family is a very large, and evry diverse Family of plants. I do love roses don't let me be misunderstood...but...well except for a wide range of colors, that's about it. And when you take orchids, with the species in the wild going into the 50,000 and every Genus(that's what the Orchid Family is divided into) having it's very own appearence in plant form and flower color and shape, you can imagine how different orchids look.

So to give this post another view on orchids... Here a picture of the smallest orchid on this planet and one of the biggest on the planet.

The smallest orchid is Platystele jungermannioides which has flowers only half a millimeter or one-hundredth of an inch in diameter. The entire plant is only about a quarter of an inch or half a centimeter tall. They grow naturally in the cloud forests in Central America, principally in Costa Rica. The flower, when viewed through a magnifying glass, is a pale greenish color with a purple lip.

The largest orchid is generally agreed to be Grammatophyllum speciosum. It can weigh up to 2,000 pounds or 900 kilograms and is reputed to produce up to 10,000 flowers on a mature plant in nature. The pseudobulbs reach 10 feet or 3 meters in height with leaves along the full length. The species is found in Malaysia, the Solomon Islands, Sumatra, the Philippines, Papua and New Guinea.

Happy you liked the picture daisy...I saw the picture and thought...thats a nice one to give Splashers a good impression how The Keukenhof Gardens look like in spring!

So often we(and Iam no exception to that rule) look too much to far away countries, and seem to forget the beauty that is laying there at our feets so very closeby.

And what you just wrote, so very true..it's a wonderful place to be. I haven't been to the gardens there in ages, but very true would be a lovely place to be inspired, being surrounded by all the colors and different shapes. Soooo Iam going to go there for sure when it opens in April. Will let you know if any poems came out of that visit! So thanks for bringing that idea to mind!

Robins and blue jays fluffing their featherspreparing to add to the storya symphony of nature conducted each dayby the pixie they call, Morning Glory.

Orchestra of Night

Picture perfect, tapestry of colorbeneath the willows, weeping in the breeze,spring extends to the vibrance of summerand the sun slips away with grace and ease,darkness descends from the tops of the treeswhile time stands still without need for a clock,the orchestra of night begins to rock.

A foggy mist arising from the lakefireflies display their symphony of light,nocturnal stretch and begin to awakespiders weave silently throughout the night,and the warm wind blows in the pale moonlight.Time carries on without need for a clockthe orchestra of night begins to rock.

Feathers ruffled in the musical windcrickets serenade, violins in tune,fish jumping, frogs singing, harmony blendsboats gliding silent in the month of June,ripples glisten in the light of the moonwhile time stands still without need for a clock,the orchestra of night begins to rock.

Creatures of darkness come creeping, crawlingbuzzing, whirring, drawn closer to the light,hear the distant cries of lonesome howlingshadows will be shifting throughout the nightand the willows sway while bathed in moonlight.Time carries on without need for a clockthe orchestra of night begins to rock.

Flowers renew for the coming of dawnfrom dew drops weeping from high in the treesadding its touch to the symphonic songthat continues to grow with grace and ease,and travels through the park upon the breeze,while time stands still without need for a clockthe orchestra of night continues to rock.

Rose of Love

Upon the nightstand lay the rosethat you gave to me this nightthe soft rich tones of yellowmixed with streaks of white.

Half undressed getting ready for bedreaching for the rose once morebreathing in its fragranceas I danced across the floor.

Holding the rose to my lipsremembering that special kisslingering upon your every wordfor nothing I wanted to miss.

Then you presented this rose to meand told me how you feelyou said the petals stand for usand that the love you have is real.

Each petal woven together for strengthto protect the other from harmyet still can breathe and open upallowing others to see your charm.

A chalice of water will keep it freshas I dream all through the nightyour rose of love still on my mindas dawn brings us the morning light.

Window Box

He always bought her geraniumsin the brightest shade of redthey reminded him of mommyis what he always said.

Because they were so colorfuland were sure to bring a smileshe'd plant them in the window boxand nurture them for a while.

Don't cry mom, I'll be home soonI'm off to start life on my ownshe stood there waving goodbye to himthen she noticed the flowers were grown.

Geraniums for her window boxin the brightest shade of redthey reminded her of her loving sonand the things he always said.

Time passed by so quicklyhe hasn't been around for a whilebut each time she sees her geraniumsthey continue to bring a smile.

In a recent letter he told herhe was starting a family of his ownhis wife had planted flowersand he'd noticed how much they've grown.

Geraniums for her window boxin the brightest shade of redthey still remind me of mommyin his letter, is what he said.